


G-A-S-T

by pricingham



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: (one chapter but still), Angst, Canon Era, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pricingham/pseuds/pricingham
Summary: Four times LeFou said Gaston's name and their meaning.





	1. I'm Gaston.

**Author's Note:**

> hi im billy and i love angst *flips switch on and off* welcome to hell welcome to hell welcome to h  
> im gna update this over the course of the next 4 days enjoy i guess,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Gaston heard LeFou say his name, he had been no older than thirteen. He had ran away from Marie’s funeral; he couldn’t exactly handle it. Seeing his sister slowly wither in front of him had already been traumatic enough — Gaston didn’t need to see her small corpse inside an equally small coffin.

Gaston sobbed. His knuckles were bleeding and bruised from punching the tree. Sure they hurt but he still firmly believed it was the best way to let out anger — screaming and punching and kicking.

His train of thought was interrupted by some shuffling, not very far from his tree. “Who’s there?,” he asked, voice shaking. He cleared his throat and repeated, “Who’s there?!”

The shuffling stopped but not before Gaston could see it came from some nearby bushes. He picked up a rock that lied next to the tree’s roots and rose it to his head, ready to throw it.

“Come out!,” he demanded, getting up.

When nothing came of the order he sent the rock flying into the bushes, getting a high pitched “Ow!” in reply.

“Christ’s sake,” he grumbled, walking up to the source of all the noise. He dug his hands into the bushes and when he touched something soft that seemed like a shirt, he pulled up. Gaston now found himself grabbing a boy about his age by the collar. He was relatively shorter than Gaston, and very chubby too. His eyes were wide and his mouth open.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” he asked in a whimper.

Gaston frowned. He had an accent, unlike any other Gaston had heard. (Not that they were many.) “I won’t,” he said, dragging him out of the bushes and letting him go. The boy fell to his knees but was quick to get up. Gaston crossed his arms and watched him as he brushed the dirt off of his breeches. “How long have you been… hiding there?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I was getting plants for my maman, you see, when I heard yelling and then I found you… assaulting that tree with your anger. Which is why I hid. I didn’t want to be next,” he joked.

Gaston’s shoulders dropped a little but he regained his posture quickly. He wasn’t the kind of person who trusted easily, especially not someone who had been hiding in bushes while he cried. “What’s your name?”

“O-o-oh, _no_ ,” he laughed. “No, no. Look, I didn’t hide in there and then later beg for you not to hurt me so I could tell you my name and get a fist to the face.”

“Woah, I’m not actually that violent,” Gaston said, letting his arms fall to his side. His knuckles still hurt.

The boy eyed the tree with puckered lips and raised eyebrows before looking at Gaston again. “Of course not. That’s why that tree is covered in blood.”

“It’s not… There’s just some bits of blood on the trunk,” Gaston defended. He wet his lips in thought and brushed a few strands of hair back, away from his eyes. “I’m Gaston,” he said, offering a dirty, bloodied hand to the boy.

“...Gaston,” he repeated with a nod. He smiled, a small gap between his front teeth showing. Gaston smiled in return. “I like it!”

Gaston wiggled his fingers, calling the boy’s attention to his hand. “Does that mean you’ll tell me your name?”

The boy hummed in thought dramatically, making Gaston stifle a laugh. “If you promise you won’t laugh.”

Gaston nodded and crossed his heart. “Cross my heart, my friend.”

The boy softened at being called Gaston’s friend, but quickly pulled himself together. He gripped Gaston’s hand and reminded him of the promise. “I’m LeFou.”

Gaston had thought he’d at least stifle another laugh. Instead he just stared at him, smiling fondly. “It’s pretty.”

LeFou looks at him, puzzled. “You really think LeFou is a pretty name?”

“Mhm. It, um… sounds warm…? That was probably weird, I’m sorry,” he laughed.

“No, no! It was sweet. Usually people just laugh at me… Your name is pretty too,” he quickly added, withdrawing his hand. “You know, I have some things with me, I could take care of those wounds.”

Gaston smiled at him. “Alright.”

They sat by the tree Gaston had hit as LeFou cleaned up his knuckles. “Gaston,” he murmured to himself.

“Yes?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” he said. He looked flustered. “I just like it.”

“Thank you!,” he replied with a grin.

LeFou laughed softly. “So… Gaston.”

“Are you just saying my name again?”

He laughed again, louder this time. “No. I, huh, wanted to ask why you’re here.”

Gaston was silent, besides some hisses when LeFou wiped the wounds a bit too hard. “My sister… Um, she, she died. And my father and my grandfather, too.”

LeFou stopped and let out an “Oh”. “I’m so sorry.”

Gaston wanted to say it was alright, he _did_. But nothing about losing more than half of your family is alright. So instead he began tearing up, sobbing.

“Hey, hey, Gaston,” LeFou said, putting his hand to the back of Gaston’s neck, gentle. “Gaston,” he called again and Gaston felt safe. “You’re okay.”

“I miss her,” he sobbed and LeFou’s hand moved to his cheek. “She was really sweet to people, and she could read too,” he said with a smile.

“That’s amazing!”

Gaston nodded, still sobbing. “She was amazing. Sort of… Odd, but…” He sniffed and shrugged. “She was my sister, LeFou, and I miss her so much and—”

LeFou pulled him into a hug, soft and warm, hand running up and down his back. He shushed him. “It’s alright.”

Gaston nodded, strained due to his face being buried in LeFou’s shoulder. He withdrew, gripping at the front of LeFou’s shirt and sobbing. He sniffed and took a small handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his tears and blow his reddening nose. His eyes were puffy and his head hurt.

“My maman tells me that,” LeFou said, a hand still resting on Gaston’s shoulder, “we shouldn’t cry because it’s over but be happy because it happened.” When Gaston didn’t reply beyond a small nod, he added, “Usually she says that after I accidentally kill a pet mouse. For the tenth time.”

Gaston laughed. “Do you like dogs?,” he asked, looking at LeFou.

His eyes widened and he nodded, grinning. “I love them! I’ve always wanted one but maman says they’re too needy, which is _not_ true.”

“Mine isn’t,” Gaston told him. “He’s as tall as I am, and he used to go hunt with my father, and Marie, she named him Pom-Pom. Or Bonbon, I never really understood… Anyway, I thought they were ridiculous names because our dog was a _fierce hunter_ just like papa, not some… baby.”

LeFou smiled and began wiping Gaston’s left knuckles. “I think they’re good names.”

They sat in silence for a while. “...You know,” Gaston said, LeFou’s forehead now touching his shoulder. “I think we’re going to become really good friends.”

LeFou looked up at him, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Really?”

“Mhm. You’re the first person who’s actually listened to me babbling,” he confessed.

LeFou frowned. “That can’t be true; you’re so interesting and fun.”

Gaston blinked at him. “You mean that?”

“Of course!,” he said, nodding. “I mean, you’re… You’re one of my firsts too. The first person who didn’t make fun of my name.”

“And no one should!”

LeFou grinned. “Well, everyone should listen to you, Gaston! You’re really… perfect.”

“...Yeah,” Gaston sighed with a smile.

LeFou laughed. “I’m glad you agree.”

“Friends?,” Gaston said, moving to grip his free hand.

LeFou glanced down and then back up to Gaston, slightly surprised. “Yeah… Yeah, friends!,” he said, shaking his hand with a big grin.


	2. You're the Best.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the time the war came to Villeneuve, Gaston had lost count of how many times LeFou had called his name, always sweet and gentle and warm. Much like LeFou himself, really.

Gaston collapsed on his chair with a deep sigh, LeFou following by closely. “No, the captain won’t talk to anyone,” he told a young soldier.

Gaston heard him grumble in reply and then LeFou stating very carefully that _he_ could talk to the captain because _he_ was his aide-de-campe. Gaston smiled tiredly. He let out another sigh when he felt LeFou’s soft hands on his shoulders.

“May I?”

Gaston nodded and leaned his head back. “Would getting rid of the jacket help?,” he asked, opening his eyes.

LeFou looked down at him with clouded eyes. “Huh? Oh, yeah, probably.”

Gaston smiled and got up to shrug his jacket off and, deciding it would help as well, to take off his waistcoat and shirt. He heard LeFou gasp softly but didn’t comment on it, simply sitting back down.

Ever since they first met near that tree (LeFou called it ‘L’Arbre Du Duo’, though Gaston wasn’t exactly sure what it meant), they had become very close friends, just like Gaston had told LeFou. Some people in the village would murmur about them being _too_ close, especially when both of them drank a bit too much and suddenly LeFou was sitting on Gaston’s lap, who did nothing about it. Some soldiers commented on it too but not as loudly, once Gaston was their captain and they were afraid of whatever the repercussion for slandering him like that was.

So, due to that strange closeness, Gaston didn’t say a word about how irregular and deep LeFou’s breathing was, just like he didn’t talk when LeFou’s warm hands slid past his shoulders and onto his chest, brushing over his pecs.

Gaston puckered his lips as LeFou leaned in, nose at the crook of his neck. “Gaston,” he whispered, and Gaston smirked. Christ, did he sound affected.

“Yes?,” he said, turning to look at him. LeFou’s hands now rested at Gaston’s chest, fingers intertwined.

LeFou looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes and open lips. He blinked. “Nothing,” he breathed, shaking his head. Gaston scoffed and LeFou cleared his throat, straightening himself and placing his hands back on Gaston’s shoulders.

“You know, you never really told me where you were from,” Gaston said, breaking the silence inside the tent.

“Oh, huh,” LeFou started. He shrugged, out of Gaston’s view. “I’m from Villeneuve, really, Gaston.”

He hummed. The way LeFou said his name was something incredible, made him feel strangely safe — not that he would ever admit it. “Your accent isn’t.”

LeFou laughed softly. “No, it’s not, huh, I got it from my father. He’s, was… He was English.”

“An _Englishman_ came to France?”

“Well, he was in Spain first,” LeFou explained, brushing Gaston’s hair away from his back so he could rub his shoulders there too.

Gaston nodded.

“Gaston,” LeFou called, and Gaston sat up.

“Are you just calling my name because you like it?”

“Wha— No, no,” LeFou said with a chuckle. “I just… I want you to know you’re the greatest captain we could ask for. And the greatest friend _I_ could ask for.”

“The feeling is mutual, LeFou,” he replied, eyes slipping close. “I don’t think what I’d do without you by my side, praising me.”

LeFou snorted, lips brushing against the scalp of Gaston’s head. “Come on, you don’t keep me around just for praise.”

“...No, I don’t,” he sighed. “I keep you around because you’re my best friend and I value that. No one listens to me like you do. No one _appreciates_ me like you do… Actually, you know something?”

“What, Gaston?”

“I think I’m rather underappreciated amongst the soldiers.”

LeFou grumbled. “They just don’t know a great leader when they see one. And most of them are just jealous they weren’t the ones picked by the prince to lead. You’re a gift from the Heavens, Gaston, and these people are ungrateful.”

“A gift from the Heavens,” Gaston repeated. “Now, that’s a new one.”

“Well, it’s true,” LeFou said, kneading his neck a bit. “You’re a living god.”

Gaston hummed, smiling, and leaned his head back.

“You’re so charming and… tall and handsome, and everything any man dreams of being.”

Gaston was beaming then, a warmth filling his chest. “LeFou,” he called.

“Yes, Gaston?”

“You’re the best.”


	3. You're Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war came and went, and Gaston saved being optimistic and all-smiles to when he was among people. In private, he became quieter, more prone to violent behaviors, more impulsive. LeFou, however, stayed the same: patient and gentle. Especially towards Gaston, who still calmed when LeFou uttered his name.

Gaston was on his fifth beer, the fire beside him crackling and warming his left side. He put the beer down where LeFou usually sat — he was currently wiping tables and putting away dirty dishes — and took off his waistcoat, the heat starting to annoy him. “LeFou,” he called, slurring his name.

“I’m coming, Gaston.” And in no time, Gaston felt those soothing, gentle hands on the back of his neck and cheek. “Are you feeling okay?”

Gaston sneered. “I feel drunk.”

LeFou sighed and put the stein away before taking its place next to Gaston. He put an arm over the back of the chair, hand petting Gaston’s hair carefully. “Why are you drinking?”

“War,” he replied bluntly, looking over at the fire, relaxing against LeFou’s touch.

“Is it Belle?,” LeFou asked, and Gaston could hear the bitterness in his voice despite him trying to sound comforting.

Gaston looked at him and raised his eyebrows. “I told you it’s the war.”

“I know ’war’ is Gaston code for ‘Belle’, I know you.” He did. “Look, you can have _anyone_ , why settle down for a girl who’s a little ungrateful wh... “

Gaston smiled tiredly, drunkenly. “Are you jealous, my friend?”

“Wha—, no! Why would… Listen, this isn’t about me, alright? It’s about you, Gaston,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Gaston’s ear. He left his hand by Gaston’s cheek.

Gaston sighed, leaning against it. He liked it, that strange intimacy between them, especially when there weren’t people around. If with a crowd they would sit close and Gaston’s hand would always roam to _somewhere_ in LeFou’s body, without one they would do as lovers did. Not that Gaston considered them to be lovers; he had never bedded LeFou and had no intent on doing so. At least that’s what he told himself.

“You deserve more than a girl who doesn’t know how to appreciate you,” LeFou spoke, breaking the silence between them. “You deserve so much more.”

“...You’re right.”

“As usual, Gaston,” he said with a soft laugh.

Gaston glanced at him and smiled fondly. His laughter hadn’t changed and neither had his smile. “I like when you say my name,” he murmured, eyes heavy lidded with exhaustion and drunkenness. Still, he noticed how LeFou turned a bright pink around his cheeks.

He laughed nervously. “You do?”

Gaston nodded, closing his eyes. “It feels like home… _You_ feel like home, LeFou,” he confessed, letting his head fall to the side and rest on LeFou’s shoulders and making LeFou put his hand to the back of his head again.

Gaston was almost asleep when he heard LeFou whisper something. Something that sounded eerily close to a confession, a murmured “I love you, Gaston”, emphasized by a kiss to the top of his head. And Gaston felt a tear trickle down the bridge of his nose before drifting off.


	4. Sorry, Old Friend.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last time Gaston heard LeFou call him was the last time he spoke to him. It was loud and Gaston felt all but himself. He had convinced himself and the whole village the beast Belle and Maurice babbled about needed to be killed. And so he set out to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is super fuckin short i hope its still Good

Gaston jumped when he heard someone yell “ _Attack_!”. He turned to LeFou, eyes wide, a small pit of worry in his stomach. He breathed out “LeFou” as he ran to him and Gaston couldn’t have felt more like he was back in the war. He sneered; the castle was so loud, he was fully expecting a cannon to go off.

Something tapped on his shoulder and he frowned, heart hammering in his chest, and turned around. A _moving_ _coathanger_ stood next to him. Gaston couldn’t believe his eyes, and his muscles moved before he could think out what to do, grabbing LeFou by the back of his jacket and using him as a human shield.

He turned his head, out of breath, when he heard a creak and turned LeFou with him. His eyes widened and he was too overwhelmed to even comprehend the amount of hurt and utter _panic_ in LeFou’s voice when he screamed out, “ _Gaston_!”

Gaston let him go and watched as LeFou was crushed by some kind of piano. And as he huffed and looked up at Gaston with tears in his eyes.

“Help,” he breathed out and Gaston could tell the piano was crushing his chest. Every nerve in Gaston’s body was on fire in the worst possible way; he felt his heart in his temples, tears well in his eyes, the sentence 'KILL THE BEAST' in his mind flashing on and off.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” he told him, LeFou trying to reach for him and the piano playing some funeral march. “It’s hero time.”

And, again, he watched as LeFou’s head fell to the ground and his eyes slipped shut. The pit in his stomach deepened, worry turning into guilt — not that Gaston knew that heart wrenching feeling had a name. He turned and headed to the west wing.

He wanted to apologize, wanted to get him up but the Beast was somewhere up there waiting for Gaston to kill him. He was too focused on that and too overwhelmed by all the screaming and the regret to turn around.

 

* * *

 

He landed on the hard ground. The dark red blood that pooled under Gaston’s head stuck his hair to the snow. Before long, he heard someone who sounded like LeFou call his name. But perhaps it was a trick of his mind. Still, whatever it was, it was pained and hurt and loving. And so was the whispered out “LeFou” that slipped out of Gaston’s lips. His last breath.

The last thought he had was of him and LeFou under L’Arbre Du Duo when they met. And of LeFou's smile, with that little tooth gap that made Gaston’s heart skip beats. The thought of it now only made his heart stop for good, the small smile on his lips fading away alongside his life.

A tear fell on the blood stained snow.

And there lied Captain Gaston of Villeneuve, too proud to admit he was wrong, too egotistical to save his friend.


End file.
